Verticon's Night Out
by Tm2 Dinobot
Summary: Verticon just wants to get drunk and have a good time out on the town. But when she wakes up with someone else in her bed, she has to deal with the repercussions. Rated T for drug and alcohol use, light language, and thinly veiled sexual implications.


**Verticon's Night Out**

 **by Sam Ford**

* * *

Verticon scowled. The music was hot and grating, the squelch turned up too high, burning her audio receptors. The percussion played at a desperate 180 BPM tempo; not fast enough to be true Polyhex metal, instead keeping it slow enough for the few humans to follow. Not that the humans were listening. The two in the corner were stoned out of their minds on Durabyllium Rust and probably wouldn't survive the evening. The third sat across the bar and was currently swapping mandible juices with something one could only hope was mostly organic. Without care he might lose his head to the cross-species make out session.

The songs changed again, and the treble player gyrated faster, doing his best to stab a burning poker right through her temple. That was the problem: this was just another Iacon pop speed cover, and the original wasn't even worthy to give her a processor ache. Her patience ran dangerously short. Only idiots could like this music.

"Good music, huh?"

Ladies and gentle bots, exhibit "A". That was her second problem of the night. It took everything Verticon had not to smack her partner right off his stool and onto the floor. She didn't, because she knew stopping short wouldn't be possible; she'd end up tearing his throat out and finishing the job. Instead Verticon steepled her fingers against her head, as if she could massage away the stupidity.

The fool was nodding his head, bobbing along with the insipid beat, glass of amber crème motor oil in his hand. Dialatius was a lightweight in ever sense of the word. Sometimes he could be fun, but right now Verticon was wondering why she'd let him live all those years ago.

The singer let out a string of terrible notes and Verticon ground her gears, downing another shot of dirty energon. Maybe if she had enough processing through her system she could contract radium poisoning and forget about this by morning.

The Cassettacon had been looking forward to this for weeks; not that she'd admit that to anyone. In a rare moment of fangirlish glee she discovered that the last surviving member of the _Slagheads_ was playing at the Double L, a bar on level 79. She hadn't heard the Sion band in centuries, not since before the war began. Their music was one of the few happy memories Verticon had, and she didn't care what it took, she was going to see them.

It had taken nearly a month to talk Beamer out of weekend passes, wearing him down until he finally relented. Verticon had never wanted anything so bad before; not since she'd bought that new energon scalpel. And she freaking loved that scalpel.

It turned her fuel tank to think of herself a few hours ago. On her way to the bar she'd been almost... _giddy._ Verticon, a hardened Decepticon! But there it was. Maybe she was growing soft; too much time with Autobots. Dialatius' usual social complaints hadn't fazed her at all, and she'd been almost pleasant when Beamer assigned Cavalier as escort. Never mind that they'd been under protective custody for over a year without so much as a hiccup. No, none of that mattered. She was going to see _Slagheads_!

Then they'd arrived and gotten the news. The band canceled, probably another overdose. Chasing the Kremzeek no doubt. It didn't matter; none one remembered the two-note Sion wonder. No one cared. No one except Verticon.

So here she sat, listening to some no-name butcher Taylor Swift because it was ironic, nursing her poor attitude with alcohol only because she wasn't allowed anything stronger, when stronger was exactly what she needed.

Or something else entirely. The thrum of the music was turning on unwanted systems, and she was trying to not remember just how long it was since she'd been with anyone. Dialatius and Cavalier pretending to ignore one other wasn't exactly helping. The poor love struck fools.

Primus, she'd tear a bot's face off for a high right now! The energon wasn't going to make this night better, no matter how much radium she dosed it with. But it wasn't like there were any other options, with not a single pusher here. They were too high into Autobot controlled Upper City, even at level 79. Too many eyes, too many CDC officers.

The music droned on and she kept downing drinks. The world wasn't okay yet, but it was getting there. The shade of pink fuzz around her vision promised good things to come. The band changed songs again, and Verticon tried to stand, only to find herself on the floor. Damn. Why was her equilibrium always the first system to shut down? Yet another reason she wanted a tap line in her arm. Good stims gave you the high with half the side effects. They took a sliver off the end of your life, but that was the price.

Bad stims took more than just a sliver; they left you dependent, with a countdown timer in your left optic that never stopped blinking, reminding you that sooner rather than later you'd shut down permanently. Verticon wasn't an addict; she'd treated too many of them for any danger of that happening. She had much better control over her life, she thought, as she hauled herself back onto the stool.

It wasn't half as late as she wished it was, and this night was much too far from being over. Dialatius and Cavalier appeared to be having a good time at least. Gross. She needed a lie down. Maybe she should slow up a little? At this point she'd be passed out in cassette mode and used as a step stool the rest of the night. She'd forgotten how much she hated radium; it left a salty, green taste in her mouth.

She stared at her best friend and his Autobot companion, thinly veiled contempt lingering in her glare. And something else, too. In a rare moment of drunken honesty, Verticon admitted something to herself that she hadn't felt in centuries: loneliness. This went beyond physical need, which was bad enough; it was an icy emotion gripping her spark itself. For a long, long time it had been the three of them: Verticon, Dialatius and Spectrawave. They had seen a thousand battlefields and corpses piled to the sky. They had witnessed gods rise and stars fall. But they had done it all together. They were a team; Verticon's passion and drive, Spectrawave's calm rational, and Dialatius' quiet conscience and heart. It just worked.

Now they were prisoners, wards of the Autobot state, and Verticon saw the cracks forming. Spectrawave was actually enjoying himself, getting to save lives without fighting the mud and grime and rust. Dialatius struggled with his own personal battle, an attraction that went against everything he'd been taught to believe. At one time Verticon would have been his confidant, but now he'd found another. And Verticon was left cold, alone, abandoned to the ravages of change.

The lights faded, and Verticon thought her optics had cut out on her. Then the music came in low, along with the colored spot beams. Mist drifted from stage left, fog hanging low. Absently Verticon recognized the chemical composition, but her internal processors couldn't articulate it right now. She could hardly see anything beyond all the patrons. Where had they all come from? It was packed wall to wall Cybertronians, and Verticon was almost the only one drinking. It was time to go. Turning back to the bar, she downed her remaining shot. She needed a stim, she needed a lay, she needed to be anywhere but here.

"Ladies and gentle bots." The announcer intoned as the lights swept back and forth across the stage. "Presenting, for the first time performing below level 30, fresh from her 'Toxic Love' tour, the Mistress of the Microphone, the Princess of Psalm and the Seductress of Song... Rosanna!"

The crowd went nuts. Had they all lost their minds? They were screaming for some silly pop starlet who exposed herself to the tabloids twice a week and puked up every meal. How had Verticon missed the headliner on the poster? Like an idiot she'd been fawning over her dream band and failed to notice the social scab headlining.

Verticon covered her audio receptors with her hands, spilling her drink across her lap. In a moment of clarity she understood the purpose of straws, wishing fervently that she had one. Everyone was wild; even Dialatius was on top of his stool, cheering his fuel pump out. Fool. 'Temptress of Temptation?' What did that even mean?

The lights cut out entirely and the base dropped in. Verticon watched in the holo-mirror above the bar. Someone guitarist who wasn't half terrible began shredding a long riff and a familiar tune. Verticon to cock an optic. This might actually not be half bad. Then came the first refrain, husky and low.

"You'll never know that I got you." A hooded figure sang, rising from a platform in the floor. "And then you're too late 'cause you're mine!"

Wait, Verticon knew this song. It was poppy, but not as sugar-sweet as she'd expected. Where was the catchy, canned marketing designed to sell records to little femmes? This... this was treading dangerously close to real music.

Then the Seductress of Song dropped her veil, and Verticon got, counting quickly on her fingers, her third surprise of the night. Rosanna was another Cassettacon! Maybe that shouldn't have come as a shock; there were plenty of economy sized bots running around. It was just, with the engrained prejudice on Cybertron, Verticon never expected one to be an interplanetary pop icon.

"You took my heart, so I took your LIFE!" Rosanna screamed her voice high and grating with a kickback from the drums.

Verticon's optics shot wide as recognition dawned. She knew this song; this was _Slagheads_! A teenage pop idol was doing a cover of her favorite band, and doing a good job to boot.

Scrambling for a better position, Verticon found herself on her feet along with every other patron in the bar. Her world of snark and self loathing melted away as she actually began to enjoy herself. Soon she was screaming along with the rest of the idiots as Rosanna crescendoed through the song.

"Thank you!" She breathed into the microphone, pulling her cloak up off the stag floor. "Y'all are wonderful. It's great to see everyone here tonight. That was the _Slagheads_ single 'Pain and Love', a personal favorite of mine from when I was little. Unfortunately they couldn't be here tonight, so I thought I'd treat y'all to what you're missing."

That did it, Verticon was hooked. She'd barely paid attention to this Autobot performer before tonight, but now she would walk through the slag pits of Kaon for her. Her tight, white paint job with just the touches of pink and blue steel, her incredible vocal rage, her familiar Cassettacon form, and even her cute little Tyrestian accent. Verticon was quickly developing an idol complex, if not a full on schoolyard crush.

This was new territory, this strange feeling of amazement in her processor. Verticon did not like things. She did not make friends. She and Spectrawave were partners, that was all. Dialatius, well... Begrudgingly and with enough alcohol she might admit he was her only friend, though sometimes she thought of him more as an annoying pet.

Without missing a beat Rosanna started playing her syth-harp. It was similar in function to an Earth fiddle, except with a higher range than humans could hear. An older instrument, originally brought to Cybertron by their Quintasson oppressors, not many younger bots used it now. Rosanna not only made it work, she made it look _good_. Launching into a rendition of "Dust of Time" she let out a scream, turning her high kick into a back stretch that no Transformer should be able to pull off.

"How'sss she doing that?" Verticon slurred to no one unparticular. Great, now her vocal processor was on the fritz too. She should have quit drinking half a vorn ago.

As Rosanna danced, Verticon fell entranced. The unnatural sway of those hips moved just right to draw the eye, and it did a very good job. Her fingers lithely danced across the strings as the band played on.

Verticon leaned over for Dialatius, but he was on the floor, riding on Cavalier's shoulders. Not exactly the most dignified position for a Decepticon, but it was better than being stepped on. A very real risk in this crowd. He seemed to be enjoying himself, at least.

"Idiot." Verticon spat.

She stepped off her bar stool, catching her ankle on a rung. The world rose up fast, and she landed on her jaw with a thunderous crash. The world made a maddening loop-de-loop and Verticon listened to the sounds fade behind the internal alert pings and blinking HUD lights.

She felt herself being hauled back onto her feet and made a half hearted attempt to take a swing at her assailants. Dialatius just brushed her away.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"Nooo. I wanna go home." Hissed Verticon, swinging and missing once more.

"I swear." muttered Dialatius, running a diagnostic scan across her cranium. She just blinked her optics at him, one a half click slower than the other. Dialatius reached over and sniffed her empty glass. "Ugh, Ver. Really?"

"What's wrong?" Cavalier almost had to shout over the crowd as the band shifted songs. She towered above them, shielding them; their guard and their friend.

"Verticon got into the laced Energon."

"Is she going to be okay? Can you fix her up?"

Dialatius shook his head. "She'll be fine, but the only thing that'll cure it is a power down of a recharge bed. She's going to need to sleep it off on her own. She knows better anyways, don't you Verticon?"

"But is good." she leaned forward. His breath smelled like warm sandpaper. Or maybe that was hers? Why was it so hot in here? "Is sooooo good. Di, buddy, you need to have somma the, the, the whatchacallit? Your face is smooth..."

"Okay, that's it." Dialatius pulled her hand away from his face. "You're cut off."

"Noooo. I wanna go home." Verticon pouted.

"No can do, kiddo." Cavalier looked toward the door. "We're locked in till some of this crowd clears out."

"Don'tchu take that tone with me, missy!" Verticon spun, almost falling off her stool again if Dialatius hadn't steadied her. "I'm older than you are! By... a lot!" she admonished, pointing a finger at Cavalier.

"It's true." Dialatius agreed. "You're practically a teenager compared to her."

Not many Cybertronians could blush, but Cavalier tried her best. "Well maybe I should just go find some bots my own age to hang out with?"

"Nah, don't bother." smirked Dialatius. "I happen to like teenagers." Cavalier redoubled her efforts to turn her paint red once more. Dialatius caught Verticon staring out of the corner of his optic. "What?"

"You're gross. Botha you."

"What's your point?"

"Is no one. Is just, is me. Again. You know?"

"What?"

Verticon sighed. "Nothin'. Just le'e me 'lone."

They stayed like that for a few more cycles. The band wound up as Rosanna worked the crowd into a frenzied pitch only to leave them hanging. It was the little tease's trademark move. It also helped her sell more merchandize. Dialatius returned from her booth with a signed posted that he had to stand in line a full forty cycles for. The stupid flimsiplast would be torn by the end of the lunar cycle, and he'd paid far too much for it. Cavalier had to break up a fight between her two companions before they killed each other over a singer's autograph.

Not that it was much of a fight. After that they sat Verticon down at the bar and poured mineral water into her till she was ready to burst. It helped clean up the trace elements through her systems though.

While Verticon sat drinking her eighth glass, the owners of the Double L swept up. A few stragglers stuck around, but most had cleaned out once the merch booth sold out. The band packed it up on stage, and Caviler dragged Dialatius out onto the now-empty floor to dance. The truth was he loved it.

"That's an odd sight; a 'Bot and a 'Con intimately enjoying each other's company?"

"Eh, they're having fun." Verticon took another sip from her glass. She was far from sober, but at least the warning lights had stopped flashing in her head. "Don't tell them I said this, but they're good for each other. They've both got scars; hers' are just on the outside."

"I mean, they're cute and all. I just didn't expect to see it tonight. But then I guess I've seen weirder things too. Strawberry Naphtha, please."

Why was the bartender ordering a drink? Verticon turned and her jaw almost came unhinged. Rosanna was right there, sitting on the stool next to her, daintily sipping thru a straw.

Just as beautiful close up as on a big screen projector, her silver-blue vac metal glinted, while her right shoulder clicked, just a bit. She also appeared to be covered in a fine sheen of oil.

"You're, um, you're sweating." Verticon pointed out.

"Oh? Sorry," Rosanna quickly wiped herself down, embarrassed. "I really exert myself up there, you know?"

"Nono, I like it. You're good. You play pretty."

"'I play pretty?' Really? That's, like, what you're going with? You're not doing the Decepticons any favors with eloquence."

"Hey! I happen to be a doctor. I can be smart." Verticon shook her head. Her words weren't coming out right.

"Oh really?" Rosanna cocked her optic in a sing-song voice.

"You have a blown bearing in your rotator cuff. That's why is doing the clicky sound."

"Anyone could know that."

"But I can take it apart for you."

"You want to... take my shoulder apart?" Rosanna nudged away, ready to call her body guard.

"Is three pins and a screw. The cuff takes a number 12 socket and the 5th ball bearing is the blown one. That cosmikitikic surgerry place change it in 45 cycles. I can do it in 5."

"Holy Primus, you're, like, really a doctor, aren't you?"

"I'm a medic. An' a damned good one."

"Well, not right now." Rosanna chuckled.

Verticon looked back at her glass. "No, I suppose not."

"You know, I've been under the energon knife a few times."

"Yeah? Modifications?" Rosanna nodded. "What'd you have done?"

"Nuh-uh." Rosanna shook her head. "I'm not telling. At least not, like, right now."

"Fair enough." Verticon saluted. "We all have out secrets."

"So did you enjoy the show?"

"Did I?!" Verticon squealed.

Her inhibitions were far enough gone; she didn't care if she went full fangirl and made a complete fool of herself. The pair talked for a full hour about anything they could think of. They'd both been to a lot of the same places over the years, the only difference being Rosanna was performing, and Verticon was blowing them up.

Verticon took it slow on drinks after that while Rosanna had a few more, waiting for her crew to break down the stage. They huddled closer, listening intently over the din that arose.

"What did you think of _Kiss Players_?" asked Rosanna shyly.

"I thought it was a terrible film. Dialatius made me watch it; he's the movie buff. I'd forgotten you were in it until tonight. You were the only good part." Verticon added frankly.

"Yeah. It was meant to be, like, my big film début, and then it flopped. They wanted me to, like, take my torso plate off for the camera, you know?"

"Did you?" Verticon cocked an optic.

"No! Like, whatever."

"Hey, I was jus asking. I dun know why low budget directors have to be such creeps about that. I think they just wanted to see you exposed."

"Do... do you want to?"

"'Do I want to' what?" Verticon took another sip from her drink.

"Take off my torso plate?" Rosanna averted her gaze.

And Verticon did an honest to goodness spit take, spewing her drink across the floor. She stared long and hard, absently wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're flirting with me." It wasn't a question.

"And you're, like, totally drunk. What else is new?"

Before Verticon could reply, her two companions wandered over. "You ready to go?"

"No, I'm good."

"Come on," Cavalier gestured. "I've got to get you two back to the Hearth before solar rise, or it'll be my chassis in a sling."

"I told you, I'm good here." Verticon stared up at the Autobot.

"And I wasn't exactly asking now, was I?"

Verticon sneered. Even inebriated she knew how to take the larger Autobot down. Her HUD screen highlighted several joints and pressure points where a well placed blade could incapacitate. Clicking through optic filters, she could even identify her main fuel lines if Verticon felt like pressing the issue further. The pink snow around the edges over her vision did little to deter her, only egging her on with false confidence that only comes with alcohol.

"Ver." Dialatius put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her sightline back to him.

She knew that look in his optic, just as her recognized what she'd been thinking. Damn. That was the one downside to friends; they knew you too well. Sighing, she pushed herself off her stool. Dialatius reached out, taking Rosanna's hand.

"It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Wait, so that's it? You're just leaving?" Rosanna looked confused.

"They're under my charge, and I only-"

"But we had weekend passes!" Verticon blurted out.

"What?" asked Cavalier, confused.

"We have weekend passes. We don't have to be back at base till next week."

"But... but..." Cavalier plaintively glanced at Dialatius, who merely shrugged. "I want to go home."

"And I'm not done here." Verticon put a hand on her hip. Stalemate.

"Verticon." Dialatius tried to jump in. She'd forgotten about him.

"Oh, shut up, you! You just want to get laid."

The bar went silent. It was common knowledge around base that the two were twitterpated with one another. You'd have to be a blind skylynx not to notice. What was NOT being spread around, however, was just how far the two had gotten physically. Most assumed they'd been sleeping together at least, but Dialatius had confided the truth in Verticon, his best friend. They hadn't gone that far, either because they wouldn't, or couldn't.

Past ghosts were tough for some bots to deal with, and Dialatius was no exception. He also had the added baggage of still being partnered up with his one-time tormentor, something Verticon occasionally regretted. She'd been young and angry, but she'd never apologized.

Regardless, he and Cavalier were taking it slow. Verticon, instead of harboring that trust, had thrown the filthy lies back into his face in an attempt to hurt him; to hurt Cavalier. So why did it hurt herself?

Dialatius just glared at her. Verticon's mouth moved, but no sound came out. You could have heard a scraplet fart. Dialatius set his jaw, and a little more of their friendship vanished. Why was she so stupid?! Cavalier looked to be on the verge of tears when Dialatius took her hand.

"Do whatever you want. You always do."

Verticon watched the two of them head out the door before turning back to Rosanna. The pop starlet sat there, cocking her head and staring at her.

"I- I- I-"

"Well don't just stand there, stupid." Rosanna did that strange, sad knowing smile with her visored face that made her fans just adore her. "Go after them!"

"But-"

"Go!" Rosanna laughed, hopping off the stool to give her a hug. "We'll see each other again, don't you worry. I had too much fun not to."

Verticon couldn't make her words come out right. She was a Decepticon, survivor of a dozen campaigns. She knew how to tear enemies apart and put allies back together. She'd had one friend in her entire life, two if you broadened the term to include Spectrawave. But never had she been rendered speechless before, especially by the embrace of a teenage girl.

Rosanna gripped her by the shoulders, turned her around, and shoved her toward the door. Automated systems kicked in, and for once Verticon didn't trip and fall like a klutz. Halting her forward rush, she turned back only to find Rosanna already walking away, shouting orders to her stage crew.

Stepping into the pre-dawn of the undercity, Verticon shuddered against the chill. Most of the lights were out, but she could just see the winter-breath escaping her exhaust vents. The cold also rebooted a few of her systems, and she felt herself sober up, standing a bit straighter. She was an unarmed compact Decepticon on an Autobot controlled planet. With a start she realized that Cavalier was their escort for that exact reason.

A message icon appeared in the lower field of her vision as her comm system came back online. It was a private number, with a friend request for her personal contacts. If it had been her business mail, Verticon would have deleted it unopened, or left it for later. But how had some unknown person gotten her personal comm number. Quickly she double tapped the icon.

 _Hey, beamed your number on IR when we hugged._

 _Hope to see you again soon._

 _Call me sometime. We should hang._

 _XOXO -Rosanna_

Verticon paused. She'd never had someone she could just 'hang out' with. The though opened up a myriad of emotions that she was in no state to process at the moment. Archiving the message for later use, she took off at a jog. She needed to catch up with Dialatius and Cavalier before they got too far ahead.

The walk home was uncomfortable, trailing in the pair's long shadows cast by the neon lights. Only once did Cavalier have to chase off a pack of feral hounds. Aside from that their journey was silent and unpleasant.

Arriving back at base, the two still never even acknowledged her, each splitting off for their own chambers. It was late and Verticon didn't really feel like sleeping in cramped quarters, so she avoided waking Spectrawave. Besides, he got royally pissed when she threw up in his chest.

Verticon headed for her room. It wasn't much, just a converted storage closet with a recharge bed. Compacts didn't take up much space, and since she rarely used it, the space worked well to hide personal belongings she'd rather remain personal. Palming the door pad, she hissed as the lights flared on overhead. Feeling blindly under her bed, she pulled out a case, pausing only briefly to consider her life before she keyed the lock.

She held in her hand a glittery blue composite crystal, about the size of her thumb. The last of her spice. She promptly popped it in her mouth. While it would exacerbate her systems drain, it would also clear away the alcohol burn and give her energy for a few cycles at least.

Lying back on her bed, letting it charge her body, she suddenly felt her optics spark on and off. Then, every system surged to life. Her power meter glowed a violent green, promising lies and the ability to conquer the world. Verticon couldn't just sit there; the night was young, she had to do something! She ran down the list in her head. Spectrawave was asleep and Dialatius was mad at her. The Autobots were all boring grumps anyways. So that left her without any options. At least it would have, until tonight. Fueled by the courage of a drug induced bravado that only the foolhardy could resist, she pulled up her contacts list and called the newest number.

Verticon groaned, rolling over on her recharge bed, pulling the tingling plasma sheet over her shoulder. Her processor ached, and all she wanted was a few more hours of stasis. She couldn't remember much beyond the drinking and dancing, but by the time the night was through and she wandered home, she needed more than a nap in Spectrawave's chest. A converted supply closet served as her occasional bedroom. Not that it ever saw much use.

A hand draped over Verticon's chest along with a contented sigh. Her optics snapped online. Someone was nuzzling her neck. She wasn't alone in bed. Searching her scrambled memory banks in panic, Verticon tried to remember who she'd brought home from the bar? Oh Primus, she hadn't slept with that Tonka, had she? That was the last thing she needed was some brain damaged flip changer loose in her circuits.

This wasn't the first time she'd woken up in a stranger's bed. She was just... out of practice. None of her contingency plans were in place, and with the hangover still hitting hard and fast, she was fighting panic. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over, only to get her second shock.

"Rosanna?!" squeaked Verticon.

"G'morning." Rosanna smiled sleepily.

"What are you doing here?" Verticon hissed, confused.

"You invited me." Rosanna stared quizzically. "Don't you remember?"

"No."

"Oh."

She hadn't meant that to sound as harsh as it came out. Verticon wasn't great about sparing people's feelings. Clearly Rosanna remembered all of what happened, and it meant something special to her.

"What... what happened?"

"You called me last night and, like, asked me to come over. It wasn't that far, so I figured 'what the heck?' I liked you well enough."

"You did?"

"Well, yeah." Rosanna gestured to the two of them in bed. "Obviously."

"Sorry. I wasn't expecting that." Verticon cringed.

"Neither was I. But you were, like, so charming. I showed up and everyone was, like, already asleep. And then you asked me to dance, and we sang songs and-"

"Wait, we danced?"

"Yeah, under the starlight. In your ship, you know?" Verticon rubbed her optics. Great. She'd broken into the _Valliant_. There would be hell to pay this morning. "And afterwards we went to the galley to get something to eat, but you couldn't take your optics off of me. And I thought you were just too cute. And we didn't really eat anything, but we sure made a mess of the place." And she'd have to answer for the galley as well. Wonderful. "Then we just, like, ended up back here, and it was just nice, you know?"

Rosanna snuggled closer, putting her arms around Verticon and nestling herself into her chest. The Decepticon just stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this situation, and what had ever possessed her. She lay there, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"But, I'm a Decepticon."

"So?"

"So, you're an Autobot. We haven't ever gotten along. Why would you want to be with me?"

"I really enjoyed myself, you know?" Rosanna smiled. "Usually I'm, like, surrounded by people who either want to be with me, or want a piece of me. But you're just so honest, and fun. I've never met anyone like you before. It's nice to just let myself go. Know what I mean?"

Verticon took that in, before putting her arms around her. Wrapping the slightly shorter Autobot in her embrace, she searched for the right words to say. Never big on pillow talk, she nor her partners never stuck around long enough, she was at a loss. That is, until her fingers found Rosanna's spine.

"What's this?"

"That tickles." Rosanna giggled.

"Roll over."

"I showed you last night." She huffed.

"Just roll over and let me see." Verticon gave a friendly push.

Rosanna complied with a huff. "I told you I had some modifications, remember?"

Rosanna wasn't lying. Her entire spine had been retrofitted with a highly articulated, starship-grade aluminum super structure. It explained her mind-boggling dexterity, and her ability to dace unlike anyone else. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and would have required months of surgery. The color was indistinguishable from the rest of her paint scheme, ensuring that no one would be able to spot the discrepancies while she was on stage. Whoever had done this was a professional, charging an absolute fortune.

Verticon loved every bit of it. She loved the detailing as each individual joint cupped into its neighbor. She loved the style of it, almost like a cat's backbone. Slightly ridged, when she ran her fingers across it, she could feel the subtle weld marks. She could also feel Rosanna shudder. That excited Verticon in a way she didn't expect. The thought of the tiny, helpless female lying in traction for months, internal wiring exposed; the torture and pain the pop idol must have gone through even in heavily sedated; it only served to arouse Verticon's sadistic pleasures.

In a flash her memory defragmented, and she remembered the previous night's affair. It had all started off harmless enough, just hanging out and chatting over drinks video games, breaking into the _Valliant_. Then Rosanna had danced, and Verticon fell in love. The way she moved, the way her body slid through the air like a robot's was never meant to do. Rosanna showed revealed her modifications, and Verticon was a dead femme. Cooking in the kitchen had quickly turned into a make out session, which had lead them to their current predicament.

Verticon planted a kiss right between the girl's shoulder blades, before spooning against her back. "I remember."

"I'm glad." Rosanna replied shyly.

"When did it happen?"

"I was just a kid when the studio bought me." There was no sign of her chipper, Autobot persona. "Some bots showed up one day, asked me if I wanted to be a star. My family agreed, signed the contracts, and I never saw them again. They were paid though, that's for sure. I spent years training and programming. There were eight of us in the beginning. When I went in for my operation they were down to two other girls and me. By the end, it was just me."

Verticon nodded. It wasn't an uncommon story. Unlike most of the rest of the civilized galaxy, slavery wasn't strictly outlawed on Cybertron. It was part of the Decepticon way; if you weren't strong enough to kill your masters, you were destined to be a slave. As with all wars, it was the innocent who suffered, falling through the cracks of justice and legality. Decepticons traded in war captives though, as with Dialatius. There was no glory to be had in peddling credits for flesh; that was an almost strictly Autobot trait.

"It hurt." Verticon kissed her neck.

"Heck yeah it hurt! They cut me away, piece by piece. They jus' threw my body in the recycling bin, like I was garbage. I could still feel them cuttin', even in stasis lock. And, like, when they put the new one in... It took six months, Verticon. I cried every single night. But I never let them seem me cry."

"You're braver than others give you credit for." Verticon tried to temper her machinations. Soul baring sessions of secret tortures were not appropriate times to be turned on.

"You're... enjoying this, aren't you?" she went still.

"Yes." Verticon admitted quietly.

"Why?"

"It's just who I am, how I was designed. I'm a Decepticon; I get off on torture and rape. I don't apologize for that, but I have learned to keep it to myself in Autobot society."

Rosanna rolled over to face her again, the plasma sheets sparking on contact. "Would you hurt me?"

"No."

"...Even if I asked you to?"

Verticon sat up. "Is that why you're here? Is this some kind of game to you?"

"No. I don't know why I'm here. I, like, saw y'all at the bar, and you just seemed so miserable. And I, like, understood that, you know? I thought you needed a friend as much as I did. Beyond the performing and contracts and records, my life is actually pretty empty. Most of the time I just go back to an empty apartment or hotel room and I just wonder what it's like to not be alone." Verticon blinked. Her social life was very similar. After she finished her shift, she was left without anything to do, especially under protective custody, such as it was. "Last night was amazing. I've never met anyone like you before. I'll admit, I was curious what a Decepticon was like. I've only heard the horror stories They were all driven off planet before I came online. I'd never imagine we'd have so much in common."

"Well," Verticon smiled. "They're not all as awesome as me."

"I guess. I'm sorry; I don't know what I'm doing here. I'll just go." Rosanna sat up, throwing the sheets off.

"Rosanna."

"What?"

Verticon caught her by the arm, drawing her in to a deep kiss. She discharged just enough energy to make sure that it was felt. As she pulled away, Rosanna's optics widened in shock, but she still leaned forward just a bit.

"I'd be honored to count you as a friend." The medic smiled.

"Well," Rosanna made the gesture of pulling hair behind her ear, even though she had neither. So cute. "I don't know that I'd want to, like, make a habit of this, but I'm glad to have you, too."

The two stared at each other before bursting out in a fit of giggles. They made such an odd couple, and the situation was just too surreal, that they couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on," Verticon offered, hopping up. "Let's go get some fuel."

"Okay, just let me put my armor back on."

Verticon stretched, keying the door panel open. As she entered the galley, she saw Dialatius sitting at the table drinking caf and scrolling through the news tab. Apparently he was up late as well. She started to gloss it over, when she remembered Rosanna's advice. Taking a deep breath she wandered over.

"Hey."

"Hey." He didn't even look up.

"We good?"

Dialatius looked her square in the face. "'We good?' That's all you can say? Do you know how bad you embarrassed Cavalier last night? We were all having a good time, and you just ruined it, just like you ruin everything. 'We good?' Yeah, right."

"Di." Verticon started to argue, until she remembered her own words just a few cycles earlier. She never apologized for hurting people, but complained when she had no friends. Well, maybe it was time to start changing that. "I'm... sorry."

"Come again?"

"I shouldn't have said what I did. I was drunk. You two obviously have something special, and I shouldn't have stuck my nose in. I'm sorry. We good?"

"That's the best I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?" He smirked at his best friend.

"Oh yeah, by a long shot."

"I just wish I'd recorded that for posterity. I think that's the first time you've ever apologized to me."

"Second." Verticon remembered a much darker time for the both of them.

"Hey, Verticon?" Rosanna poked her head through the door, looking left and right before approaching her friend. "Where's the fresher?"

"Second door on your left."

"'Kay, thanks."

Verticon watched her leave before turning back to a slack jawed Dialatius. "What?"

"Okay, NOW we're even." Dialatius grinned. "So when did this happen?"

"Last night." Verticon felt sheepish again, a feeling she was entirely unfamiliar with.

Dialatius closed his news tab, calmly setting it before him. "Alright, I need details. Lots of them."

"Shut up!" Verticon laughed.

"It just surprises me, that's all."

"Why? Cause she's an Autobot?"

"No, cause she's a girl."

"Why does that seem to shock everyone?"

"Verticon, I know you. You like men. I mean, you _REALLY_ like men. I've seen your sleeping patterns over the years."

"Okay."

"She may not be the only femme you ever took to your bed, but she's certainly the first you woke up with."

"I said okay!"

There was a beat or two of silence before Dialatius couldn't hold it any longer. "I see I'm not the only one that has a penchant for teenagers."

Verticon slugged him. They both laughed, but she slugged him anyways. There was a cry from the kitchen as Rodeo rushed in, wearing an oversized apron and chef's hat. Which was currently on fire. He wasn't a very good cook.

"My kitchen! What happened to my kitchen?! Alright, which one of y'all did this?!"

Verticon cringed. She and Rosanna had failed to clean up from the previous night's activities, leaving the galley in a sorry state. Rodeo now searched for a scapegoat for the mess everywhere. Seriously, what kind of Cybertronian kitchen stocked flour anyways?

She was about to fess up when Rosanna returned. "Okay, I'm back, sorry about that."

"No worries."

"You know, I was thinking of sticking around for a while. If... that's okay?" Rosanna did that hair-ear-not-really-there thing.

"Can you take the time off?" Verticon ignored her fuel pump leap in her chest.

"Oh sure. I've got some time off due me anyways. I mean, they won't be, like, you know, HAPPY about it. But my producers can cope. I'll just tell them I'm researching new material." She winked at Verticon. "Besides, I like y'all."

Rodeo continued to yell, but the sight of the small femme caused him more than a moment's distraction. Finally he recognized her and let out a fangirlish scream. "Ohmygosh! Rosanna! Rosanna! Rosanna is standing right in front of me!"

"Howdy!"

Rodeo almost passed out at the sound of his fellow Tyrestian's accent. He hadn't been home in decades, and it was good to hear someone familiar. Kitchen forgotten, Rodeo stammered for an autograph all the while Dialatius tried to calm him down. The commotion drew several of the other bots to the area, laughing as the gentle cowpoke grew flustered over a singer.

Beamer called them all to order with a lopsided grin, dolling out the day's assignments. They didn't work for the government so much as with them. Beamer's team fell out of the direct military chain of command and often worked along side the easily-corruptible CDC force.

"Okay team, settle own. We've got a mission." Beamer said. "Special diplomatic evac. Local military has boots on the ground, but they need someone to get the big wig out of there. We've got a few reports of injuries. Spectrawave? I know your partners have the weekend off, but we're going to need full medical on this one."

"Right." The Cassette Master nodded. Verticon and Dialatius agreed.

"Can I come?" asked Rosanna.

"Sorry, authorized personnel only. No pop stars." Beamer barely glanced up, unfazed at the celebrity in their midst.

"I can ride in there." She thumbed at Spectrawave's chest.

All eyes turned to her. "Is your firmware even compatible?" Verticon asked quietly.

In lieu of an answer, Rosanna transformed, flipping and changing into cassette mode, gliding gently into Spectrawave's automated tape deck. His purple optics glowed blue momentarily before an audible click and going back to normal. Their programs finished syncing. Music began playing out of his lone mono speaker, one of Rosanna's fallen Top 40's.

"Cool, I can play music." Spectrawave examined himself in a new light. His external speaker system had always been used to play recorded medical logs or, at best, a bull horn for safety precautions. Neither Verticon nor Dialatius recorded much in the way of music. "Soundwave, eat your heart out."

"I guess that answers that question." Verticon folded her arms across her chest.

"Alright, you can come. But you stay in there at all times." Beamer pointed a stylus at Spectrawave's chest. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Rosanna chirped over the speakers.

"Alright, let's load it up. Rodeo! Lieger! We're leaving in five!"

"What are you so happy about?" Dialatius asked as he walked by, himself shifting into cassette mode.

"I don't know. I just am." she followed suit, joining her friends.

And Verticon smiled.


End file.
